


Lifeblood

by ParadoxMage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Blood, Blood Drinking, Monster with a twist, Sort Of, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxMage/pseuds/ParadoxMage
Summary: Talon wanted to create the perfect weapon. Instead, they created a monster.In which experiments go awry, and Widowmaker becomes very, very, hungry.





	Lifeblood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. Happy Halloween!
> 
> This is sort of like a monster story with a twist, in that the monster doesn't work how they normally do. But, you'll see. Hope you enjoy.

It started out as part of the programming. Talon wanted their Widowmaker to be obedient beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be completely responsive to their wishes. So they created an incentive.

 

Upon a successful mission, a successful kill, her brain was programed to release a burst of endorphins into her body. Dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin. The rush they provided was designed not just to make Widowmaker willing to kill but to make her want it, crave it, depend on it. 

 

To Talon, it was a way to keep her rabid and obedient. It made her a good weapon.

 

And for a while it worked.

 

But like any drug, the body becomes accustomed, and eventually, Widowmaker began to lose the rush, the high. At the moment of the kill, she no longer felt alive. 

 

And upon losing that feeling, Widowmaker realized just how much she needed it.

 

At first she tried to fix the problem with volume, taking more and more lives on the battlefield. Talon applauded her efforts in public while clapping themselves on the back even more in private, proud of themselves for creating such an effective tool. 

And this solution worked… for a time. Killing more people released larger doses of hormones, and for a while the feeling was back, that beautiful chemical ecstasy that she craved above all else. But to that too she eventually became accustomed, and she was back to chasing that high once again.

 

And then came a day when she pulled the trigger of Widow’s Kiss and sat watching a man gasping his last in the cold streets, his crimson blood soaking into the asphalt. And suddenly, she knew how she could feel alive again. She knew what she had to do.

 

Her first victim was taken from a frost blasted street in Zürich as he stumbled home from a bar that was still burning the shadows from the dark corners of the streets and the dark corners of the minds of its patrons. She moved behind him silently, swift as a shadow, clapped a hand to his mouth to silence his cries and dragged him off the main thoroughfare and into a darkened alley. Her hands gave a swift twist that was so ingrained into her muscles that it required no thought, and the crack that followed silenced his muffled cries against her gloves and stilled his feeble struggles against her grip. He had no hope of escape anyway. She needed him.

 

Pulling a dagger from a hidden sheath beneath her coat, she sliced quickly and cleanly across his throat, watching in something akin to awe as the man’s life poured out of the slit in his flesh like a crimson tide. Trepidation coloring her actions, she stretched out one gloved hand, dipped it into the flow, and lifted it to her mouth.

 

With her first taste she was lost.

 

She dined straight from the wound after that first drop hit her tongue. The rush, the buzz, the burning in her veins as she consumed the liquid that had until recently filled his…

 

She remembered what it was like to feel alive.

 

An eternity passed in a hazy, drugged bliss, where Widowmaker’s only thought was of the rushing energy surging through her, the strength at which her heart beat, the sharpness of her mind, the way her every cell burned with life, thriving off the drugs her own mind fed her. It was better than any simple assassination ever was.

 

When a fragment of sanity returned she looked down upon the body lying in the street, feeling some surprise at seeing the faint, and not so faint, teeth marks ringing the wound. Licking her lips, she tasted more of that rosey liquid, and shuddered with momentary bliss at the warmth and richness of it.

 

Leaving the dead man where he lay, she turned and began to walk back to where Talon has set up a safe house for her for the next week in between missions. No one would find her there. 

 

But they would find him.

 

Turning, she looked back at the empty shell in the alley, and the wash of pleasure that had gripped her mere minutes before flowed back into her, shaded slightly by memory. She turned away again, and walked to her temporary shelter.

 

As she lay in silence waiting for the dawn, Widowmaker was certain of two things.

They will not catch her.

And she will have to do this again. Drink again.

 

It is too good not to.

**Author's Note:**

> I have two things to say here. FIRST, I have some ideas for continuing this. I'd like to know if there's interest. Just give me a shout if you're curious!
> 
> Second...  
> Well...  
> Hey.  
> It's been... a long time. Since July. I'm honestly quite sorry about that, for a number of reasons. I can't say that I'm gonna be posting a lot now, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. We'll see if that works I guess.
> 
> Tumblr- paradoxmage117.tumblr.com


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